


Toaster Oven

by lesbisoka



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Yoda Acquisition, Sick Din Djarin, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbisoka/pseuds/lesbisoka
Summary: Din Djarin is terrible at taking care of himself when he's ill, but luckily Cara & Omera are there to make sure he does.(Set during his time on Sorgan. Mild Mando/Omera.)
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 201





	Toaster Oven

**Author's Note:**

> (setting is after the fight with the klatooinians, but before din leaves sorgan)
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

"Knock, knock," Omera called softly. 

She stood by the entrance to the barn, averting her eyes. The Mandalorian hadn't been out all day, and it was late in the afternoon. Even though he was a fully grown, skilled bounty hunter, she found herself concerned.

"Come in." 

"I brought food," Omera said kindly as she stepped inside.

She paused in the doorway and frowned. He was sitting, head down, with his palm against his helmet like he was nursing a headache.

"Are you alright?"

The child cooed in his crib as if to say, _no, he's not._

"I'm fine," the Mandalorian said simply. 

Omera set down a tray of food. Mando tilted his head towards it, but didn't seem eager to get up. She was about to press further, wondering if he may have been injured, but her train of thought was interrupted by a sneeze from him.

She tried not to laugh at the way his helmet-covered head twitched. Raising an eyebrow, she stated, "You're ill." 

He sniffed. "No, I'm not."

Again, Omera suppressed a smile. When Mando had walked into the village, armour-clad and donned in weapons, she never expected to see him bested by the common cold. 

"That got everywhere, didn't it?" she teased. 

"Not a word," he said gloomily. His head cocked as if he were going to say something else, but he was interrupted by several rough coughs. 

Omera reached a comforting hand out, but he swatted it away and cleared his throat. 

"I'm _fine_ ," he insisted, "You can go."

"Are all Mandalorians this stubborn?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm not being stubborn, I just…" 

"Has he eaten yet?" Omera interrupted with a glance at the child.

Mando shook his head.

"I can bring some broth for the both of you, if you would like."

"I…" he paused. "That sounds good. Thank you."

* * *

When she returned, the sun was beginning to set. The Mandalorian was slumped against the wall, his chest rising up and down as he snored quietly. Omera felt her face break into a smile at the sight. 

With his reflexes, she expected him to wake up before she even stepped inside. When he didn't, she knelt beside him and tapped his shoulder.

"Mando-"

He jolted awake. "Who-"

The Mandalorian relaxed when he realized it was just Omera. She watched as he looked around the room groggily. When his visor faced the child, safe in his crib, Mando sighed and turned back to Omera.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized. "Here's the broth."

"Thank you," he rasped. "It's fine."

Omera frowned at him. He was wide awake now, for sure, but he still seemed out of it. His movements were slow and uncoordinated. As he stood up to give the child a cup of broth, his legs seemed to wobble. 

Cautiously, Omera placed her hand on the part of his arm that wasn't covered by armour. Though the fabric was thick, she could easily feel the heat radiating off of him. That wasn't a good sign. 

"What are you doing?"

Omera furrowed her brow. "You're burning up. You have a fever."

"I'll live," he muttered.

Once he handed the broth to the child, Mando turned away from the two to cough. He stuck his hand out to use the wall as support, pressing the other one against his chest.

"Mando-"

"I'm _fine_ ," he said hoarsely, though he was beginning to sway. 

Omera wrapped and arm around him to help him to the floor. To her surprise, he didn't protest. 

"You need to take your helmet off," she said softly. "You'll cook in there. I'll get some water."

"I can't- the child…"

Omera picked him up. "I can watch him for you, if that's alright."

The Mandalorian hesitated, then sighed. "Okay." 

* * *

When Omera returned, the Mandalorian gave a small wave. His helmet was back on, but she was relieved to see he had drank some of the broth. 

She set down a cup of water and a small bowl with a few rags. 

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. 

Omera gave him a warm smile. "You saved our village. It's the least I can do." 

Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his arm again. It was still radiating a worrying amount of heat. 

"If you take your armour off, I'll close my eyes," she promised. "I just want to help."

No one would bother them. Though the village saw him as a hero, she didn't think anyone had the courage to step into his lodging uninvited. 

The Mandalorian stared at her for a few moments- or maybe he was dozing off, she wouldn't know- and finally nodded. Omera turned around and shut her eyes as she listened to the metal plates be put on the floor.

"Lie down," she said softly, wringing out one of the rags.

Eyes still closed, she turned around. Omera heard him stiffen.

"You don't have-"

"I want to."

"But-"

"Mando." she said with a firmness usually reserved for Winta. He quieted.

She estimated where his face would be and started to place the cloth down, until the Mandalorian gently grabbed her wrist and moved it higher. 

Omera let out a soft laugh and dabbed his forehead. "Sorry. Hard to do this without looking." 

She heard him sigh in relief. With the armour off, she could more easily tell just how hot he was. Temperature-wise, anyway.

"For some reason, I never thought a Mandalorian would become ill."

"We're not invincible," he said quietly. "How's the kid?"

"Cara's watching him. I thought she would make a good bodyguard."

"Good," the Mandalorian sighed. He stifled a cough. "You should go- get some rest… It's getting late."

"Mando..." she said softly, reaching her hand out blindly. "You don't have to suffer alone, you know."

He stopped her movement with a clammy, feverish palm. Omera realized he had taken his gloves off. She hoped that meant his temperature would go down.

"It's okay," he assured her. "I'm alright." 

She didn't want to, but eventually Omera stood up and stepped out of the barn. She had to get Winta fed and ready for bed, anyway.

* * *

The next morning, Omera was relieved to see the Mandalorian back on his feet- until she realized how wobbly those feet were.

When he approached Cara and her as they ate, he set a hand on their table for support. The former shock trooper raised an eyebrow and regarded him. 

"You look like shit."

"You can't even see my face," he croaked defensively. "Where's the kid?" 

Cara smirked and picked up the child from where it sat. "Right here." 

He sighed in relief. Omera furrowed her brow at his hunched position- he must still be exhausted.

"Mando with the sniffles," Cara mused, "Never thought I'd see the day."

Omera laughed with her. The Mandalorian let out a huff.

Cara grinned. "But in all seriousness- how are you feeling? Omera told me you were at death's door yesterday."

"It wasn't like that," he protested.

Omera smiled sheepishly. "She's messing with you. We were both just worried." 

"I feel fine," he murmured, though he seemed to sway. "Just didn't sleep that much." 

The child cooed from where he stood, and started to wobble across the table towards Mando. To Omera's surprise, he held up a shaky hand and stuck out his finger for the little one to grasp. 

The child made a few gleeful noises. Mando kept his head down, facing towards it, like they were the only two in the room. He murmured something she didn't understand.

Omera shared a glance with Cara. She looked like she was trying to suppress a smile.

"He missed you," Omera said. The Mandalorian startled, as if snapping out of a daze.

"Huh- right…" he murmured. If Omera didn't know any better, she would guess he was blushing under that helmet. "Well…" 

His voice cracked, and he started into a fit of coughing. Cara stood up to help him into a chair. 

When it was over, Mando was breathing heavily and slumped in his seat. The little one grasped his hand with all six claws and cooed mournfully. 

"You okay?" Cara asked seriously. 

"Yeah…" he muttered, stifling another cough. 

The Mandalorian tried to push her hand away, but Cara managed to press it against his arm. 

"He's cooking," she stated matter-of-factly. 

Omera stood up as the child gave a small whine. "You need to get out of all that armour and rest. You'll overheat."

"Had to…" he began weakly, "check on the kid…" 

In response, the child cooed and reached a hand up to his helmet.

"He's fine, see?" Cara insisted. She offered her hand. "Come on, it's bedtime."

"I can stand," he huffed. 

The universe seemed to think otherwise. As soon as Mando stood up, he hesitated and began to sway, as if hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. Cara steadied him with a strong grip. 

"Whoa there," she said with surprising gentleness. "I got you."

They made their way back to his lodging, the Mandalorian stumbling along with assistance from Cara, and his little one in Omera's arms. 

When he got to the entrance, he froze. Cara reached her arms out cautiously, but he didn't pass out. Instead, a loud sneeze echoed inside his helmet.

The Mandalorian groaned and sniffed. Cara looked like she was trying hard not to laugh. 

"At least your helmet keeps your germs confined."

"Ha-ha." 

When he slid down to a seated position, the Mandalorian sighed deeply. Omera noticed him shudder slightly, as if he were cold. Must be the fever.

"Cara, could you find my daughter? Ask her to bring my medical kit for me. And some water."

"I'm fi-" 

"Got it."

When she left the room, Omera reached a hand out. He didn't protest.

"You're warmer than yesterday," she said quietly. "How'd you end up catching such a chill?"

Mando shrugged. "It's been a long couple of weeks." 

He was still shivering. She wanted to give him a blanket, but she knew he was already overheating under all those layers. 

Omera stood up to set the child in his crib. Not long after, the wooden floors creaked, and she turned to see Winta and Cara. 

Her daughter stood in the doorway, holding a medical kit. Omera walked over to thank her and kiss her forehead. 

"Feel better, Mister!" she called shyly, before returning to play with her friends. 

The Mandalorian's head cocked. "Mister?"

Cara laughed. "I'll see you around, Mando," she said before turning to Omera, "Let me know if anything changes." 

As she left, Omera knelt down beside the Mandalorian with the medical kit. They didn't have much for illnesses, but they had a digital thermometer and a few cloths. She set a few in the bowl from yesterday and poured water in it. 

Omera handed Mando the thermometer and asked, "Can you use this?" 

He nodded. She turned around to give him privacy, and waited for it to beep. 

"It's not bad," he said. His voice was clearer without the helmet, but still stuffy.

"How much?"

"Not bad-"

" _Mando_ ," she said tiredly.

When he put his helmet back on, she grabbed the thermometer and frowned at the number. 38.8° standard. Not deadly, but too high for her liking. 

"Take off your armour," she commanded. "I won't look. You have my word." 

He must have been exhausted, because he didn't hesitate much before she heard him begin to remove it. Omera wanted to offer her help, as she could tell his movements were still sluggish, but she imagined it would be a bit too much to ask. 

Once he had finished, she kept her eyes shut and handed him a glass of water. While he drank it, she wrang out one of the cloths and brought it towards where she assumed his face would be.

Omera held her breath as she felt his ungloved fingers wrap around her wrist to guide her. She exhaled and set the cloth against his skin. 

"Thank you," he said quietly. 

Though she still could not see him, something about hearing his voice, no longer muffled by his helmet, felt very intimate. She wondered if anyone had taken care of him like this since he had come of age.

Omera's thoughts were interrupted when she felt his body shudder against the cot. 

"There should be blankets nearby," she offered. "But don't put on too many. You still have a fever, even if you feel cold." 

"I should be back to normal tomorrow," he mumbled as he grabbed one, "I just need sleep…" 

"Uh-huh," she said with a smile, "whatever you say." 

"You're nice…" he said sleepily. Omera would never tell a soul, but he sounded almost… cute.

Before she knew it, he had nodded off in front of her. 

* * *

Omera hadn't left the room, as she wanted to stay in case the Mandalorian were to wake up and need something. It was dusk when he finally began to stir.

She sensed him jolt awake with a soft gasp. 

"The egg…!" 

Trying not to laugh, Omera raised an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

"The…" he sounded disoriented. "Where am I?"

"Sorgan," she answered. "Are you feeling okay…?"

"I, um…" he trailed off. Omera felt worry build in her chest. She reached a hand out, blindly, and felt his forehead. He was still burning up. 

"Omera?" the Mandalorian asked hoarsely.

"Yes. Do you remember what happened?"

He swallowed. "We came back here, and… I fell asleep?"

She sighed with relief. So he wasn't completely delirious. Nodding, she took a breath. 

"Drink some water, okay?" 

The floor creaked as he sat up to take a few sips. Mando cleared his throat, still croaky with sleep.

"The kid…?"

She glanced over at the crib. "Sleeping, I think. Like you should be."

He managed a light laugh. "I tried to."

"Of course you did," Omera teased. "What was the dream about?" 

"Jawas…" he huffed. "On Arvala-7."

"What were you doing there?" she asked. 

"Um… looking for a bounty. The Jawas stole from my ship, so I went to trade with them…"

"Trade with Jawas?" she mused. "You're an interesting character, Mando."

"Well, I _tried_ to go after them, but…"

"But?"

"Long story," he huffed. "Anyway, they wanted a mudhorn egg, so I fought it."

"The egg or the mudhorn?"

The Mandalorian paused, and Omera imagined that he was rolling his eyes. She placed a palm against his fabric-covered arm. "I'm just kidding."

"Oh," he said softly. "Right."

Omera chuckled. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mando exhaled, "Tired." 

"You should try to sleep again," she whispered as she dabbed at his forehead. "And try not to think of Jawas."

If she could have seen him, she would be sure he was smiling. 

"I'll do my best."

**Author's Note:**

> hello there ! i have many more one shots like this that just need to be finished & edited, so hopefully more whumpy content is on the way :D in the meantime, my tumblr is kind-of-trash if you ever want to chat or see my art :^) 
> 
> pls let me know what you thought of this !! i love reading comments xx


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